Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1)

by GP Hutchinson

  She remembered—becoming resigned to her fate, burying her feelings a hundred times a day.

  It had taken more than a year to gain Seth’s trust. He had begun to buy her nice things—things she’d never dreamed of owning as a struggling eighteen-year-old waitress with no family. Another year and she had learned to carry herself with the same cool, ruthless air that he projected. She had refused to let herself think about the pain—hers or their captives’.

  Till just recently.

  Kidnapping was deeply wrong. Slavery was a darker evil yet. But senseless, cold-blooded murder on top of it all…Her heart and soul could no longer bury what she knew.

  Lately Seth had become something worse than a kidnapping slaver. Killing no longer seemed to trouble him. It used to be rare—never when she was around. He used to be patient, waiting for just the right moment to kidnap an unsuspecting young woman. But lately…She thought of the boy, William, down by the river with Adelle.

  After staring for a long moment at the dust particles floating in the shaft of sunlight that fell across the room just beyond the foot of the bed, she attempted to prop herself up on her pillow. A stab of pain stopped her short.

  If she died from this bullet wound, she’d be free from Seth. But she wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. She was, however, ready to be free again—from Seth and from this corrupt life.

  Eyes squeezed shut, she decided, If I survive this, I’m leaving. I’ll plan it carefully this time. And I’ll do it. Somehow.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Emmett’s Chinese friends forced the last few stones into place, sealing off the abandoned mine’s sole exit. A decade ago some poor hombre—stricken with silver fever—must’ve slaved long hours here, searching for his piece of the pie. The dig hadn’t panned out so well for him, but the tunnel he’d left behind made an ideal hoosegow today.

  “I’ll yell,” Charlie shouted through the one small hole they’d left in the rock wall. “I’ll yell and scream till somebody comes down here and sees what you and these johnnies done to me, Strong.” He began to howl like a coyote.

  Emmett figured the yelping must have sounded far more intimidating to Charlie inside the cave than it did to anyone on the outside. “Shut it, Charlie,” he said through the opening. “I can close up the one hole we’ve left for you just about as easy as not.”

  Charlie put his scowling face right up to the hole. “Why’d you put me in here anyway? They got a jail in Virginia City. You can leave me there till you’re ready to take me back to Texas—unless you ain’t figurin’ on takin’ me back to Texas.”

  “We’ll get you some food and water directly,” Emmett said. “Unless you go back to that lunkheaded howling.”

  “That’s it, ain’t it, Strong? You ain’t plannin’ on bringin’ me back to Texas, are you?”

  “Quit your yammerin’.”

  “You better not let these johnnies kill me. My brother’ll burn down Chinatown. He’ll burn ’em, I tell you.”

  Emmett turned his back on Charlie, crossed the gully, and clambered up to a vantage point opposite the makeshift jail. He plopped down and rubbed his eyes. How long had it been since he’d slept? Forty-eight hours? More?

  A rush of wind drove a dirt devil through the ravine near the mine entrance. The Chinese men were busy gathering their belongings. Two of them dropped their tools into a wheelbarrow, picked up shotguns, and sat down on a pile of rocks, weapons across their knees.

  He’d already told Yong Xu that he would gladly trade Charlie Blaylock to get Li and Ping back. But he hadn’t yet talked the matter over with Juanito and Sikes. He dragged a sleeve across his forehead, pulled the brim of his hat back down close to his eyes, and hoped they’d back his play once again.

  Over at the Comstock Queen Hotel where he’d left Sikes, the Brit was hobbling around on a bad leg now. Emmett glanced at his own bandaged and still-throbbing left hand. He imagined Sikes’s leg hurt a great deal worse. How much more could he ask of a man he’d never met until the day Charlie Blaylock shot Eli? Both Sikes and Juanito had certainly done a whole lot more than they’d originally signed on for.

  Now he needed to tell them he was giving up the fugitive. And then—when they all got back to Texas—he’d have to tell Eli’s wife. Once Nan learned that he’d had her husband’s murderer in his grasp but didn’t bring him back for trial, she might hate him forever. He wasn’t sure how much that even mattered.

  There was more than one kind of justice.

  Yong Xu returned to the old mine entrance with food and drink for their prisoner. Emmett understood completely why Yong was working so hard to make sure Blaylock was securely hidden away, well fed, and carefully guarded, day and night. Charlie Blaylock—whether offered to McIntosh in a trade or brought to the local law as a witness—was about the only hope Yong had for getting his precious daughter back.

  Emmett wondered how badly Seth Blaylock might want his brother back. Enough to lean hard on his boss to make the exchange happen? Even so, nothing guaranteed that Seth’s feelings for Charlie would mean a whole dreadful lot to Lucian McIntosh.

  As they often do when a man is bone tired, Emmett’s thoughts drifted and shifted like sand in the wind—snagging here for a few moments before taking flight elsewhere in the next—until finally they swirled around Li Xu.

  He pictured her just as he’d seen her the night they’d first met. Her slender form. The way she wore her dark, silky hair, one side pinned up, the other falling to her shoulder. Her expressive, deep-brown eyes. Again he was captivated.

  As far as he was concerned, his discussion with Reverend Pine had satisfactorily settled the moral question. He could live happily with Li Xu as his wife—if the two of them figured they liked each other enough.

  Emmett eyed the two men guarding Charlie Blaylock, shotguns across their laps. Most of the Chinese community here welcomed him as a hero and a friend right now. But if it came down to it, would they ever accept him fully enough to let him marry one of their daughters?

  Even if they did permit the marriage, what would people outside of this little community think—either in Nevada or in a place like Texas? Would one or both of them become some kind of pariah with no proper place in society? To be with a woman like Li Xu—amazing though she may be—could he give up everything he’d ever known?

  He gently rubbed his aching hand. Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself. What a saphead he was. A pretty girl like Li Xu…She could have her choice of a thousand young Chinese fellows. Her father had probably learned how to throw a cleaver like that just to keep all the boys away from her. Besides—he didn’t know—she might already be sweet on one of those boys.

  He rose to his feet, dusted his Stetson across his thigh, and reseated it low across his brow. Heading down the slope, he reassured himself that it didn’t matter. Whatever Li might think of him, he’d still give up his brother’s killer to set her free—if not for himself, then for her family and her people. Even for her Chinese beau. Yep, he’d pose a deal to McIntosh. An exchange—Charlie Blaylock for Li and Ping.

  Now he needed to bring Juanito and Sikes on board. They were his pardners. Their considerations counted too.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  In many ways, the Silver Nugget Saloon was just like a dozen other places on C Street: housed in a two-story wood-frame structure with a false front. Not the fanciest drinking establishment on the block but no special reputation for rowdiness either. The sun was hanging just above the faro parlor across the way when the three from Texas walked into the saloon and found themselves a corner table.

  Sikes was getting around all right. Amazingly enough, one of the women over in Chinatown had found him a real wooden crutch—the kind used in the best big-city hospitals. At the table, he rested his bandaged leg on a vacant chair.

  The bartender delivering their beer eyed Emmett’s hand and Sikes’s leg. “You gents run into a littl
e trouble out there somewhere?”

  “Mining accident,” Emmett replied.

  “Sure ’nough?” the barkeep asked. “Wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with the big ruckus down by Washoe Lake last night, would it?”

  Emmett, Juanito, and Sikes glanced at one another.

  “What happened down by Washoe Lake?” Emmett asked.

  “Rumors been driftin’ in all day,” the aproned man said. “Big explosions. A lot of shootin’. Nobody seems to know for a fact who was goin’ at it or why.”

  Sikes hoisted one of the beers. “Humph. That’s news to us. Like my friend said, we were busy enough with our own misfortune.”

  The barkeep scratched his balding head. “If you say so. Only rumors anyway. You gents enjoy your beers.”

  As the barkeep turned away, a fellow perched on a stool at the end of the bar began to strum a guitar. From the very first chords, it was clear that he possessed far more talent than the average saloon musician.

  Juanito peered over his shoulder. “That’s a paso doble.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Emmett cut his eyes at Juanito. “I’m from San Antonio, too. You think I don’t know a paso doble when I hear one?”

  Juanito grinned.

  “Beats the tar out of the banjo player over at the Lucky Strike,” Sikes said.

  “He is good,” Emmett agreed. The beer was good too. Smooth and cold.

  The guitarist’s fingers flew as the music grew in intensity and volume. He had the full attention of the Silver Nugget’s dozen or so patrons.

  While Emmett was anxious to lay out his cards for Juanito and Sikes, he decided it wasn’t often that you stumbled across an entertainer of this caliber—in a saloon or anywhere else. It had cost his compadres a piece of their own hides to achieve what they had thus far. And he was about to ask more of them. So he reckoned he’d let them savor the moment.

  The final three chords brought rowdy applause and a buzz of chatter from the occupied tables. The barkeeper smiled.

  A grin crept across Emmett’s face. Barkeep knows folks’ll linger now. Run up their tabs.

  The guitarist seemed pleased in his own right. After a few bows, he took up a softer, more lyrical tune, still with a Spanish flair.

  “Amigos,” Emmett said, “you know how much I appreciate you.”

  Sikes’s gaze dropped to his bandaged leg. “That’s all I get for this?” He gawked at Emmett. “‘I appreciate you.’ Is that it?”

  Emmett kept a straight face. “That and one more beer.”

  “One more lousy beer…”

  “What do you mean, ‘lousy’? This is quality beer.”

  “Horse swill.”

  Emmett grinned.

  Juanito glanced at Sikes, then said to Emmett, “About this appreciation—are we celebrating what we accomplished last night? Or are you setting the stage for act two?”

  “You’ve known me a long time, Juanito.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Then you know—”

  “That you want to talk about Charlie Blaylock? And about why, all of a sudden, you’re not so sure it’s absolutely necessary for us to take him back to Texas? Yes, I know.”

  Emmett studied his brother-in-law. “You know so much, go on.”

  “That pretty daughter of Yong Xu’s still needs rescuing, and you don’t really care too much about what happens to Charlie Blaylock anymore. Am I right?”

  After a pause, Emmett said, “No, I very much care what happens to Charlie Blaylock.”

  “How much…in comparison to wanting to free the girl?”

  “We made an agreement with the Chinese.” He waved for the bartender.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “We’d help them get their girls back. Then they’d help us take care of Charlie Blaylock.”

  “The situation’s changed, though,” Sikes said. “We’ve already got Charlie—”

  “Does that change what we promised to do for them?” Emmett leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Like Juanito said, they don’t have all their daughters back yet.”

  “Besides,” Juanito said, “without the Chinese helping last night we might not have gotten Charlie Blaylock.”

  Sikes drummed his fingers on the table, then said, “So what do you suggest, Strong?”

  Emmett held a swallow of beer on his tongue a moment, then said, “First, I want you to know I’m not asking either of you to commit to anything beyond what you already have.”

  “We’re in,” Sikes said, shifting his wounded leg gingerly. “That much ought to be plain to you.”

  “Might get shot again before it’s all over.”

  “Getting shot rarely bothers me. Why, at Rorke’s Drift—”

  Emmett’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t at Rorke’s Drift. Not if you were left for dead at Isandlwana.”

  Sikes stared back, then finally winked. “The truth is”—he motioned toward his bandaged leg—“this isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. And as far as I’m concerned, I was shot for a better cause last night than I was at Isandlwana.”

  “So you agree that freeing the Chinese girls is a worthy cause.”

  “We came up here chasing one murderer—a crazed killer, acting out of anger and revenge. What he did was wrong. But Seth Blaylock is a cold, calculating slaver…and a murderer of a worse variety. You told us he shot the Chinese girl who was trying to run away. Shot her to keep her from reaching Yong Xu.”

  As the barkeep drew near with fresh glasses of beer, the three held their thoughts. Once he’d wiped off the table and set out the three full glasses, they thanked him, and the music started up once again.

  Emmett’s gaze returned to his friends. “So how do we finish this business and go home?”

  “Back to Charlie Blaylock,” Juanito said. “We can’t just give him up. We need to find another way to get those two girls back.”

  “Well, we can’t go storming into Lucian McIntosh’s front parlor, guns a-blazing, demanding he let the girls go either.”

  “Maybe we can come up with a plan…” Sikes struck a match to light his cigar. “A way to somehow make McIntosh think he’s trading the girls for Charlie. But we end up with the girls and still keep our outlaw…somehow.”

  Emmett shook his head. “Stakes are too high. I won’t gamble Li’s and Ping’s lives that way. We can always make another run at Charlie Blaylock after the girls are safely back where they belong.”

  “And you think McIntosh will let that go unanswered?” Juanito said. “You go back for Charlie a second time, he’ll come back for Li and Ping a second time. He’ll know that if those girls were important enough to prompt you to give up your own brother’s murderer, then that’s how he can get back at you—going after them again.”

  “Sounds like we’ve only got two choices then,” Sikes said.

  “Take Charlie and get out of Nevada now,” Emmett said, “or give him up to McIntosh once we’ve assured the girls’ safe release. No expectation of getting him back.”

  “Why don’t we take Charlie to the local law?” Juanito asked. “He was part of the kidnapping. Right here in Virginia City.”

  “If we do that, nobody’ll ever see Li and Ping again,” Emmett said, rubbing his forehead. “McIntosh’ll get rid of ’em quick rather than risk having the law discover that kidnapping is how he’s getting calico for his bed houses.”

  Juanito’s lips twisted. “Hadn’t thought about that.” He stared away for a moment. “So do we wait for Seth Blaylock to come here to Virginia City, demanding we give back his brother? Or do we go to McIntosh and Blaylock and demand that they give back Yong’s daughter and her friend?”

  Sikes set down his beer. “They may think that with Charlie in hand, we’ll cut and run. Leave the Chinese to fend for themselves just like everyone else does.”


  Emmett nodded. “If I read ’em right, they’re not the negotiating kind. They won’t come out to talk. They’ll be watching the train stations, looking to catch us trying to slip away to Texas with Seth’s brother.”

  “May even jump one of us here in Virginia City,” Juanito said. “Stick a pistol in our back and tell us to take them to Charlie pronto.”

  Emmett swirled the beer in his glass absently. “Then let’s show some sand. Capitalize on our victory last night. Let’s ride right up to McIntosh’s front porch and demand the exchange.”

  “He won’t like it,” Sikes said.

  “Won’t like it at all. But it may throw him off balance. I’d wager he’s not accustomed to dealing with other folks on their terms.”

  With a flourish the guitarist finished another piece.

  “So you knew I’d be willing to give up Charlie Blaylock, huh?” Emmett eyed Juanito.

  “Hermano, you had the Chinese put him in a cave. Why would you do that if you planned to start back for Texas with him tomorrow?”

  “However the game unfolds,” Emmett said, “you don’t show your trump card too soon.”

  Juanito smiled broadly.

  Emmett gave a faint grin. “Charlie’s our insurance policy. I only hope the policy’s worth enough to cover this venture.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  As he and his compañeros rode four abreast on the main road just south of Reno, Emmett reflected on what an amusing picture they would present to the men they were about to call on. Juanito with his broad-brimmed sombrero. Sikes in his Cheyenne saddle, sitting ramrod straight like the Queen’s Own Lifeguard. Yong Xu, again wearing Western clothes but with Chinese shoes and a straw hat. And himself? Well, just your average Texan.

  Sikes had gotten a new pair of trousers—nice ones with fine charcoal-gray stripes. He’d said he didn’t want Blaylock or McIntosh’s men to know he was riding injured. His leg—clean and healing nicely—was bandaged beneath the pants.

  Emmett paid special attention to Yong Xu, wondering how he would bear up as they neared Lucian McIntosh’s place—if they made it that far. How would he handle himself if Seth Blaylock were to parade Li and Ping out at gunpoint?